A chronicle of my family’s journey through diagnosis of biliary atresia and eventual liver transplant. Now, traversing the life of a transplant family, I talk about parenting four kids, biliary atresia awareness, writing, and whatever else comes to mind.

Sheriff Sarah

Monday, October 22, 2012

You think you’ve gotten over it. Something from the
past that you believed you’d dealt with and put to rest rears its ugly head
again. You really thought if it came up again, you’d be ready. But you never
are. This is how I felt this morning when Patty called with Sarah’s latest
labs, the first in over three months. Results are below:

AST 117(was
34)

ALT 347 (was
29)

GGT 154 (was
16)

ALK Phos 417 (was 264)

To those of you liver parents, these
numbers may or may not appear startling. I’m so used to seeing them my eyes
begin to glaze over when I read them. It’s not the numbers that get to me; it’s
the fact Sarah will need another biopsy and that there is a likelihood of a
hospital stay.

Perhaps I’ve become too complacent
(or joyful!) that Sarah’s enjoyed such a “quiet” time in her liver journey.
She’s experienced the longest and healthiest stretch of time in her life,
post-transplant. Maybe that’s what gets me.

I’ve watched other kids struggle
during this same time; some have even flown home to heaven. It’s hard to ever
become fully comfortable in the land of post-transplant life. There’s always
the thought rejection could occur and the body no longer recognizes the liver
as a friendly organism. We just need to put those thoughts aside, though, and
drink in the richness of each day with our children and other loved ones.

And that’s what I’ve been doing.
It’s hard to even comprehend I still feel so unsettled when it comes to Sarah’s
life. There’s still so much uncertainty and while it’s likely this will be
nothing more than a bump in the road, with life resuming a normal routine, it’s
difficult to maintain such positive thoughts all the time.

I’m okay now and fully realize that
God may be opening up a door for us; that there may be someone, a family, a
member of the staff, at Children’s that needs encouragement that we can
provide. And I’m good with that. No matter how much jumbled our lives may get,
or how often the possibility of rejection lifts its ugly head, I choose to
focus on what is possible through God.